


Dream of the Fisherman's Son

by hunted



Series: Original Works [11]
Category: Original Work
Genre: (not due to sexual injuries- just murder lol), Adult Characters (Aged 21 or Older), Aftercare, Alley Sex, Anal Sex, Assassination, Banter, Bestiality, Blood, Blood and Gore, Bodily Fluids, Breeding, Cat/Human Hybrids, Choking, Cigarettes, Cock Slut, Consensual Kink, Consensual Non-Consent, Consensual Sex, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Deception, Deflowering, Dirty Talk, Dog/Human Hybrids, Dom/sub, Domestic, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in One Hole, Eldritch, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Fainting, Fantasy, Forced, Hardcore, Impregnation, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Large Cock, Large Insertion, Loss of Virginity, Masochism, Massage, Mind Break, Mind Control, Monsters, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not Beta Read, Oral Sex, Other, Overstimulation, Penetration (Front Hole Sex), Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Prostitution, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Bond, Rape Fantasy, Rape Roleplay, Rape/Non-con Elements, Roleplay, Romance, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Seduction, Sex Cum, Sex Pollen, Size Difference, Slut Shaming, Smoking, Somnophilia, Stomach Bulge, Tentacle Dick, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacle Rape, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Teratophilia, The Author Regrets Nothing, Trans Male Character, Triple Penetration, Violence, Violent Sex, Virginity, Virginity Kink, Voyeurism, all the way through, but not really?? more like, look this is filthy and nasty but you know what you're getting into, please pardon any spelling mistakes etc, this isn't meant to be my magnum opus or anything it's just filth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:27:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23185495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunted/pseuds/hunted
Summary: The adventures of a kinky trans catboy and his Eldritch lover....Hope you're all staying safe and sane during the COVID-19 stuff. Have yourself a delicious tentacle fantasy. Hope it is sufficiently sexy and distracting. 10 points to whoever knows the inspiration behind the title.Do not re-upload this work elsewhere. I do not give permission for my writing to be copied.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Monster
Series: Original Works [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1480958
Comments: 38
Kudos: 497





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you ever intend to explore rough sex, BDSM, or roleplay, you must follow [guidelines](http://bdsmwiki.info/BDSM_101) which will keep all participants safe. Just because a trans man enjoys using his front hole (or has particular humiliation kinks) does not mean he wants to be misgendered or disrespected outside of roleplay. As a comparison, consider [this article](https://metro.co.uk/2017/11/29/why-do-half-of-women-have-fantasies-about-being-raped-7099630/), which explores the sexual urges and autonomy of women with rape fantasies. Regardless of gender identity or sexual orientation, everybody deserves a safe place to explore dark urges, and deserves certain safety nets which will protect them and their partners if things go too far, or they want to stop.  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> If you're looking for more FTM stories, ranging from vanilla to hardcore, please browse the other works in this series. For more information on representing trans men in fanfiction, and in fandoms more broadly, see [this guide](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20475404). The fact that I write kink-heavy FTM stories does not mean I condone the fetishisation of trans men. **I do not condone, excuse, or encourage rape. I do not condone unsafe exploration of kinks, or the non-consensual harm of any person. All of my characters are over the age of 21.** Thank you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sex in this chapter is ultimately consensual, but the trans man and the non-humanoid monster engage in rape/non-con roleplay, so I have added appropriate warnings. Please consider all the tags before reading. **The author is FTM. No feminising language is used for the trans man's anatomy.** The trans man is penetrated in both holes, but I just refer to them as holes. An aftercare scene emphasises the trans man's ultimate consent.

The bedframe creaked. He felt a cock sliding in and out of him, unnaturally smooth and impossibly long, snaking deep inside his body, thrusting languidly in the absence of any tiredness or refractory period. Pounding sensations of heat hummed through him with every punch deeper, every wiggling press against his insides. He tried not to cry. He tried not to moan. He failed at both. He was pinned in place, cheek pressed against the mattress, gaze watery as he sobbed in protest of the assault. A slimy, fleshy thing undulated on top of him, its limbs encircling him, winding fluidly around his wrists, creeping down his legs. Between his thighs pooled a slick puddle of sticky fluid, overflowing from his hole as the thing fucked him, its length glistening when it pulled out just so it could shove back in again.

He was jolted in place, crying helplessly. If someone were to walk in, they would see a giant mass of tentacles and skin, pinkish in colour and disconcertingly boneless, some kind of octopus-like monster. They would see it forcing itself onto a small cat boy, his pale body violated so thoroughly, so deeply, his furred ears pressed back against his scalp as he was fucked. Flailing feet poking out from beneath a giant creature, accompanied by a tail that emerged from just below the small of his back, soggy with fluid.

But nobody was seeing this. The room was dark, the house empty. The cat boy lived alone. The perfect victim for a ravenous beast; fertile, young, and isolated.

“Please, no,” he begged, words warbled and useless, “No, no, stop, please, please…!”

His eyes were glassy, his gaze unfocussed. The sex was wet, filthy, and visceral. He felt raw. Ruined. Open. His ass bounced every time the thing thrust into him, and he knew he would bear its children, knew it would impregnate him with its tentacled young. After he birthed the things, they would rapidly age and need a host of their own. He would be raped again, and again, and again. He cried harder, thighs trembling, skin slapping. He could hear huffed growls behind his head.

“Stop it! Stop it! Take it out, pl- please,” he could barely even draw breath as his body was rammed repeatedly, his head lolled by the force of it, “Please, st- stop!”

The beast seemed to like his pain, seemed to delight in his struggles. It moved faster, another slick head poking at his hole, trying to push in alongside the cock which was already ruining him.

“No- No, no, you can’t, it won’t fit, stop, stop- Ah! Stop! Stop it! Take it out!”

A second tentacle slid in smoothly, two limbs thrusting into him and swirling around each other, tangling inside his body, seeking to force themselves deeper, and deeper, and deeper. He wailed at the feeling.

“No, no, no- Please, no- Mmf! Mm!”

His cries were silenced when a tentacle trailed around his throat and past his jaw, seeking out his mouth. He shook his head violently to try and escape it, but it forced itself between his teeth and down his throat. He gagged, shoulders hunched as his body tried to fight off the intrusion.

“Mmf- mmmh…”

A swell of warm, thick liquid burst in his throat. Without intending to, he swallowed it, the lines of his neck moving with the motion. Almost immediately, heat hummed through his body. His lashes dipped down, lustful eyes glazed and unfocussed, cheeks flushing with the pink glow of arousal. He collapsed down onto the bed, quivering. The tentacle moved sinuously from his mouth, leaving him gasping, his parted lips slick from moisture. He had enough sanity left that he could remember that he didn’t want this, but that awareness was rapidly fading. He groaned. The creature continued fucking him. The _slap, slap, slap_ of skin was now accompanied by his whines and breathy begging, a litany of _uh, uh, uh_ as his body was used.

“No…” he whispered, but his will was fading, “S- Stop… You can’t…”

The beast kept going. The boy grew weaker, his furred ears relaxing, no longer pressed back against his head. Another tentacled cock poked at his second hole, trailing slick fluid over tight whorls of pinkish skin. He whimpered, knowing what would come next. A flare of arousal sparked in his gut, roiling and wild, but he tried to resist it, tried to fight back.

“No… Please, no more…!”

The long limb pushed inside him. He yelled in protest, voice muffled by the sheets. His ass was smoothly filled, and he could feel the limbs sluicing in and out of his body, fluid yet solid at the same time. He’d never been so full before. He could barely breathe. The front of his belly was lumpy and bulging, hot fluid sloshing around in him. A wall of flesh separated the limbs that thrust inside him, and he could feel every inch of his insides. Parts of him that he’d never known.

“Please… Pl- Please…”

_"Virgin boy likes being fucked."_

The voice seemed to be a whisper, a breath of voice in the boy’s ear. But the monster had no mouth. It slobbered onto him, fucking him brutally, undulating in and out of him like some sort of fleshy mechanism. Unstoppable. Relentless. Hungry. It was inside his body. It was inside his head.

_"Little kitty. Do you feel the pleasure?"_

“N- No…”

_"Lies."_

The boy panted, tears blotting the sheets. “Stop…!”

_"Feel the pleasure. Here. Deep inside."_

The boy moaned.

_"Yes. Feel it, boy. Feel it inside."_

"No... Please..."

_"Hush. Take my seed inside you. Give in."_

He gasped, all his defences failing. The heat boiling inside him was too much. He couldn't focus on anything but how much he wanted more. The tentacles were filling his small body so thoroughly that he was sure it couldn't be possible. He felt his eyes sliding shut.

_"Yes... Yes, good boy. Good boy."_

"Please..." he mumbled, lips slurring against the mattress, "Please..."

Darkness bled across his vision. To the sound of squelching and fucking, he fell unconscious.

***

When he woke up, he was on his back.

The room was loud with the smacking of skin, the slurping of his body as his holes tried to clench around the invading cocks. The bed banged against the wall. He felt numb. His body had been so thoroughly used that his nerves were raw, his skin tingling from rubbing touches. His legs disappeared into a writhing mass of tentacles, and he was being yanked back and forth, tugged harshly onto the limbs that were fucking into him. He was gazing up into what could only be described as a _lack_ of a face. Some sort of opening seemed to function as a mouth, hot air huffing over him, drool dripping onto his willowy chest as he was raped. He couldn't see eyes, but he sensed that he was being watched.

He lifted a trembling hand from the bed, placed it on his belly. Below his skin, he felt twisting, squirming things. Thrusting in and out of him. Opening him up. Fucking him hard. He didn't know how many hours had passed. How long these things had been inside him.

_"Ah, you're awake."_

The boy blinked sluggishly. He wanted to beg for it to stop. But he couldn't.

"Fuck me..." he mumbled, "Fuck me harder..."

The thing seemed to laugh, scornful tones echoing through the boy's foggy mind.

_"You enjoy being taken so forcefully."_

"Yes... Yes, rape me..." He didn't know what he was saying, didn't recognise the breathless, slutty whine that lengthened every word. "Rape my holes... Get me... Get me pregnant..."

_"You love it."_

"Yes... I..."

_"Tell me you want this."_

"I... Please... Please..."

_"You love it. You love this."_

He wanted to say that he didn't. He wanted to flee. He wanted it all to stop. But the hot fluid he'd swallowed, it had corrupted him, hypnotised him, ruined him. He sobbed as he pleaded for more. He wailed at the injustice of it all, the terror of being violated. But he couldn't help the words that spilled from him.

"Rape me... Rape me...!"

_"You were made for this. Made to breed."_

"Yes... Yes..."

_"You deserve this."_

"Yes, I... I deserve this..." He wanted so badly to fight back, but he just lay there, with cheeks flushed prettily, eyes half-lidded, belly rising and falling as things jolted and thrust inside him. "I deserve it..."

_"You will carry my babies."_

"I will... carry... your..."

Those words cut through the hypnosis. He trembled. He didn't want to become pregnant.

"No..."

The whispered syllable seemed to excite the monster. It moved faster, undulating wetly on top of him, huffing excitedly, a growl emanating from somewhere within its huge mass. It wanted his defiance more than his compliance. It wanted him to resist the urges it had forced upon him because, well, that was the fun, wasn't it? To conquer something so beautiful. To ruin something so pure. The boy's thighs were pulled further apart, his wet hole stretched wide, slick limbs pounding him furiously. His other hole was being abused too, fucked with the force of multiple men.

_"Such a delicious little thing."_

"No... No..." He tasted the words, felt his strength returning. "No... Take... T- Take them out...!"

He shoved weakly against the monster, but his wrists were seized, pressed against the mattress.

_"You think you can resist me?"_

"Stop," he gasped, "Stop- _Aah!"_

His protests turned into a senseless gurgle, pitched high with panic. He felt a tentacle sliding up, _through_ him. He convulsed as it travelled upward, further than he'd have ever thought possible, sliding behind his ribcage and up, up, through his throat. It emerged from his mouth, dripping slick fluid. His body seized, shuddering, and he felt that he'd finally been shattered beyond repair. The monster was inside him in every single way. Thick liquid was excreted from the tentacle's sloppy skin, filling him with arousing slickness, his mind overwhelmed by the need to be bred.

_"You see? How much pleasure I can bring you, boy. You need only submit."_

The boy couldn't even draw breath to reply. He just lay there, a warm thing to be fucked and filled by the beast. He couldn't think. He couldn't do anything. He was limp, loose-limbed, tentacles emerging from every hole. The fucking grew more violent. More frightening. The bed buckled, wood splitting, the boy's body pummelled.

_"Yes. Yes. I'm so close. I'm going to fill you up. Fill you with babies."_

The boy's eyes rolled back in his head. The monster seemed to scream in delight.

_"Yes... Yes...!"_

The creature came inside him. A fresh wave of thick, white fluid. Bursting from the boy's holes. Pooling onto the bed. Dripping from the sides of the mattress. He was bathed in it, inside and out.

The boy collapsed completely. His mind was blank. His body was finished. The beast pulsed inside him, and then eventually pulled out. The boy felt so empty. So fucked-out. So used. Then, immediately, he was unconscious again.

***

When Ryden woke up, he had been washed clean. His body ached from the fucking, the corners of his mouth rubbed pink, his holes stretched beyond anything they'd ever attempted, but he had been cared for. Lavender flavoured the air. He had been moved to another room, and laid down on a softer bed, with an unbroken frame. He was dressed in a loose, gossamer-soft gown, the fabric gentle against his sore body. His tail and ears had been carefully washed, fur no longer matted by fluid, no longer sticky with come.

When he opened his tired eyes, Z'uthralg was next to him. He grinned, happy to see his lover. The creature leaned down, in a manner of speaking, draping its enormous form next to the man's smaller frame.

 _"I was worried that perhaps you wouldn't wake up,"_ his adoring partner told him.

Ryden laughed quietly, his voice hoarse. He coughed before saying, "I wouldn't have asked for it if I couldn't take it."

 _"Oh, I don't know,"_ his lover mused, _"you might. You are a devilish man."_

"I just know what I want," Ryden countered calmly, eyes soft with a smile, "I know what I like."

Z'uthralg reached over him, a tentacle extended. Ryden parted his lips, satisfied when a cigarette was placed delicately in his mouth. Z'uthralg flicked a lighter to life, igniting the fragile paper with a practiced movement. Ryden breathed in a lungful of tobacco, sighing in satisfaction. Z'uthralg discarded the lighter on the bedside table, huddling down next to Ryden.

 _"We ruined the bed,"_ the creature admitted sheepishly, " _I got too excited."_

"I do vaguely remember that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading, my dear perverts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features our protagonist pretending to be an innocent prostitute, in order to seduce and kill a sexual predator.  
> .  
> .  
> Don't get it twisted; this chapter is a condemnation of sexual predators. My stories address the fantasies and kinks of consenting adults, and sometimes stray into dark territories, but in my world of fiction I have never condoned (nor will I ever condone) sex with unconsenting partners. BDSM cannot ever be healthy if individuals are preying on the vulnerable, or coercing their partners to participate in sex. A sadist who likes harming people without their consent, or has an attraction to underage individuals, is mentally unwell and should seek psychiatric help for their condition. Sex with coerced or unconsenting partners is a crime. Sex with underage partners is a crime. If you are motivated to commit either of those acts, go to a therapist. I do not support your urges.  
> .  
> .  
> Ryden is condemning sexual abuse in the ultimate way; by punishing an abuser. The fact that he uses his body to do so, and seduces the rapist, is an unrealistic and fictional approach to justice. Obviously, do not try this at home. In reality, sexual assault is traumatising and life-changing... whether you know it's coming, or you're surprised by it. Real people explore roleplay in scenarios where they feel safe and protected, and to do so with a hostile stranger would be severely irresponsible. **BDSM is not for everyone, and you must stay safe while exploring sexual tastes.** A seductive cat-human hybrid putting on a show for his Eldritch lover is hardly a realistic portrayal of _anything_. For insights into safe BDSM, see [this page](http://bdsmwiki.info/BDSM_101), [this article](https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/nee9yg/bsdm-can-provide-profound-healing-experiences), and [this article](https://www.bustle.com/p/what-do-unusual-sexual-fantasies-mean-60892). Many people have dark fantasies; in fact, statistically, consensual non-consent fantasies are among the most common, [particularly for women](https://metro.co.uk/2017/11/29/why-do-half-of-women-have-fantasies-about-being-raped-7099630/). As long as you are healthy and recognise the autonomy and dignity of all individuals, you needn't worry.  
> .  
> .  
> Switching to they/them for Z'uthralg, because it's easier to use those pronouns in-text, rather than saying "it". Please note that, during what is perceived to be an assault (but is actually a seduction), the aggressor uses the words "pussy" and "cunt" for the trans man. It is always apparent that Ryden is in control, however, and Z'uthralg is always present to protect him.

Ryden leaned against a brick wall, hips cocked on an angle, one leg folded at the knee, foot tucked behind his other heel. He wore shorts that were a scant few inches longer than underwear, cupping the curves of his thighs and the plumpness of his ass. His legs were slender and elegant, blanketed by pale, blond hairs. He wore baby blue sneakers with white laces. The waistband of his shorts was a taut, closed loop against his pale abdomen, a single button and a zipper begging to be undone. From behind him curled a silky tail, emerging from the back of his shorts. His grey t-shirt had been cut short, turned into a crop top that revealed his belly-button. His hair was trimmed into endearing waves, not so short as to completely tame his wild curls, furred ears emerging from his shaggy mop.

He smoked quietly, alone in the alley.

He wasn’t dressed for the weather. It wasn’t quite cold outside, but the air had a hard edge to it, a chill that settled against the skin and whispered the the promise of winter. The people who passed by the alley were all wearing trousers and coats. A few glanced over at him, where he was illuminated by a street light, smoke curling through the air and framing him in a translucent cloud. All that bared skin.

The assumption, communicated in raised eyebrows and side glances, was that he was a prostitute.

Ryden was entirely aware of his own appeal. The implication of his youth not lost on him; he was under no illusion about what he looked like. Insolent. Bratty. Beautiful. Begging for the cruel hand of an older man to tame, touch, and teach him. The lines of his body were athletic and refined, his belly flat, his chest masculine, his shorts hiding the secret he so treasured. Beyond the purpose of tonight, he liked slipping into the role of a poor, naïve boy; lost to the night, nameless and faceless. Cat-human hybrids were quite rare in society. Smaller than humans, more petite and animalistic, hybrids such as him were able to fool the world with their soft faces and mewling voices, feline in their elegance and shrewdness. Hybrids had never forgotten how to hunt, whereas humans had been made weak and docile. Ryden was a formidable killer. He used his body as a weapon. A tool.

There was the sound of slithering, of a huge body moving discreetly in the shadows. A tentacled limb sluiced its way across brickwork, brushing Ryden’s leg. Ryden smiled, raised his cigarette to his mouth.

“Patience,” he murmured against fragile paper, “He’ll come.”

Z'uthralg retreated, a trill of enjoyment humming beneath Ryden’s temples.

_I do love watching you work._

Ryden grinned at the praise.

It didn’t take long. In the silence of the alley, Ryden was alone, Z'uthralg out of sight but never completely gone. On missions like this, Z'uthralg accompanied him. They were both turned on by this, hungry for it, bound by mutual darkness. Z'uthralg wanted to know Ryden was safe, wanted to protect their mate from harm, but also wanted to see Ryden flirting with danger. Submitting to it, parting his legs in invitation, allowing such an intimate destruction while also using it to his fullest advantage. Some couples went out and pretended to be strangers in bars, pretended to meet for the first time. The hybrid and his tentacled lover wanted more.

It took only a few more minutes before crisp, businesslike footsteps were approaching Ryden down the alley. Ryden, easing into the role which so aroused him, ducked his head and peeked shyly over at the man who had set his sights on the tasty morsel of a boy, so deliberately and irresistibly offered. He stood tall and handsome, well-dressed, hair slicked back. His eyes were cold and dead, smile hiding atrocities that had been committed behind closed doors. To the world, Mr Williams was a gentleman, a loving husband, a caring father, and a successful businessman.

The worst monsters always were.

Ryden looked at him with hooded eyes, beseeching and timid, as though he were afraid of the trade he had been forced into. Williams came to a stop before him, gloved hands concealed in his coat pockets.

“A little late, isn’t it?” Williams’ voice was flat but friendly, the ruse of his pleasant demeanour teetering, mask barely obscuring his darker side, “For such a pretty young thing to be out, all alone.”

Ryden lowered his cigarette, licking at his lips. The man stared at his mouth.

“Us pretty young things need to make a living,” Ryden said quietly, voice higher and more unsure than usual.

“Mm.” Williams stepped closed to him. “And how long have you been making your living this way? Whoring yourself out to strangers?”

Ryden looked down again, quicker this time, ears pressing back as he flushed with shame.

“I see. So, you’re new to this?”

Ryden nodded, shuffling his feet.

“Poor thing,” Williams muttered, his voice eager and fascinated, “Such a terrible fate for such a lovely kitten.”

Ryden sniffed derisively. “I’m not that young.”

“How young are you?”

Ryden didn’t answer. That aroused the businessman more, as he was free to assume whatever terrible number he wanted. He stepped closer, reaching up to press his palm against Ryden’s head, rubbing his thumb against the base of Ryden’s ear. Ryden trembled, as if he were so sensitive as to be overwhelmed by the heavy hand of a stranger.

“How many men have had you?”

Ryden looked up at him with big, scared eyes. “I…”

This close, Ryden could see the enjoyment in Williams’ eyes, the way that his face became rabid with hunger. Anybody else would miss it. But Ryden knew what he was looking for. Knew the dark secrets that this monster harboured.

“You’re a virgin.”

Ryden’s face wobbled, his expression collapsing into despair. Williams stepped closer still, their bodies pressing together. Ryden shied away from him, shoulders curling away. Williams plucked the cigarette from his fingers and threw it aside.

“Tell me your name.”

Ryden looked away, head inclined to the side, lips pressed together in defiance. As if he had bitten off more than he could chew, as if he were snared in a trap of his own making. Williams grabbed his face and turned it, forced their eyes to meet. Ryden looked up at him, cheeks dented by Williams’ fingers, expensive brown leather against his skin.

“You’re hurting me.”

“Tell me your name.”

“Let me go-"

Mr Williams squeezed his face tighter, and Ryden whimpered.

"Tell me your name."

"Tommy," Ryden lied, "It's Tommy. Please let me go. I don't want-"

Mr Williams' hand shifted, no longer gripping his jaw, palm pressing flush against Ryden's mouth. The boy struggled, hands flailing as if he couldn't manage to push Williams off him, when in fact he could pummel his attacker if he wanted to. Williams glanced around, making sure nobody was watching before he reached down, undoing Ryden's pants with a twist of his wrist, button snapped free, fly unzipped abruptly.

"Never fucked a hybrid before."

Ryden jerked his head to the side, "Stop, wait-"

"Shh," Williams hushed him, slapping his hand over Ryden's mouth once more, "Shh, I'll be gentle if you don't resist."

Ryden continued to struggle, but his efforts were in vain. The man's hand dipped below his waistband, and where he expected to find the full weight of a cock, he encountered an absence. His eyes widened, and he angled his fingers inward, pressing hard against the sensitive bud of flesh above Ryden's hole. Ryden whimpered, shaking against the wall, hitting his hands uselessly against the man's solid chest.

"A boy with a pussy," the man breathed, "Are all hybrids like you?"

Ryden sobbed, eyes made bright with tears, lashes clumped by moisture. Over Mr Williams' shoulder, he saw a flicker of movement, Z'uthralg reminding him that he wasn't alone.

_Anytime you want this to stop, I'll kill him._

Ryden shook his head. Williams took that as a response, but really, Ryden was responding to his lover. He didn't want this to end. He was hungry for what would come next.

"Ah. You're just a special slut, then. Lucky me."

The man curled his fingers deeper, and Ryden's body shuddered with a jolt, his sobs raising in pitch and frequency. The sensation of smooth leather, insistently seeking entry to his body, was deeply arousing. He cried as if it were a nightmare.

 _I love watching you,_ Z'uthralg told him, _I love knowing you're in control._

There was a moment of resistance, and then the man's fingers were penetrating him deeper. Ryden wailed. The man gripped his face tight, and began to thrust his fingers in and out. Ryden had gotten wet as he waited in the alley, and slick sounds hit the air as the businessman molested him.

"Mmm," Ryden tried to protest, "Mmm!"

"You want it so bad," the man hissed, "Dirty kitty."

A couple walked past, but quickly looked away, accustomed as they were to the sight of a well-dressed businessman pressing a prostitute up against a wall. Ryden tried to get their attention, only as much as the ruse demanded.

"Mmm! _Mmm!"_

Mr Williams cursed under his breath, then pulled his fingers abruptly from Ryden's body. He couldn't risk public exposure, or being recognised.

"You're coming back to my place. Keep fucking quiet, and I'll pay you."

***

As if he were truly a desperate prostitute, Ryden meekly followed Mr Williams to his car, where the man directed him to sit in the back seat. He looked out he window, quietly sniffling and crying. Williams sat next to him. The driver seemed unconcerned about the age of this new youthful passenger, or his client's intentions. This only reinforced Ryden's conviction that this man needed to die.

The car ride was silent and uncomfortable. Williams stared at him like he was a slab of delicious, juicy meat. Clearly he had enough restraint to hold himself back until they arrived, which Ryden found hilarious. As he pretended to be dismayed and frightened, he was secretly smiling. The plan was going perfectly. And Z'uthralg, present in ways that went beyond their physical form, was accompanying the car, flittering through the world like a shadow in the corner of Ryden's eye. They would manifest when the sex started, watching from a corner, whispering praises in their lover's ear.

 _He has no idea,_ Z'uthralg said in gleeful delight, _What you will do to him, what will happen tonight._

Ryden bit his lip hard to suppress his grin.

***

The car arrived at a huge, sprawling property. Mr Williams led him inside, Ryden following with his shoulders hunched and his tail between his legs, ears pressed flat against his hair. A frightened little hybrid boy. The servants avoided his gaze and tried not to think too hard about the crimes they were ignoring. When they came to Williams' bedroom, the man closed the door behind Ryden, locking it with a terrible, final-sounding _clunk._ Ryden stood in the middle of the bedroom, arms wrapped around himself, knees pressed together. The bed was huge and perfectly made, a giant window looking out over the gardens, two desks and a roaring fireplace completing the picture. The light was off, with the room lit only by the fire. In the darkness, any other boy would be terrified, would be sobbing with despair. Ryden peeked around as if he were afraid, but really, he was considering the items he would steal once tonight was over.

Williams walked up behind him, slower now, shined shoes crisp against the polished floor. He placed his hands on Ryden's hips, bare skin against bare skin, the hem of the crop top making for easy access. Ryden whimpered.

"Tommy," the man murmured, mouth against the top of Ryden's head, dwarfing the boy due to their height difference, "Poor little Tommy."

Ryden sniffed, though it was difficult to pretend to desperation when the name wasn't even accurate. But he was nothing if not a dedicated performer.

"Please," he sobbed, voice wavering, "Please be gentle, I've never..."

Mr Williams inhaled deeply against his hair. One hand crept downward, cupping Ryden's groin through his shorts. He grabbed at the man's wrist, tried to push him off, but Williams groped him insistently.

They stood there for a while, Ryden crying, the man molesting him in the middle of the room, clothing askew and crumpled. Then, as if in a fit of fury, a switch was flipped. He yanked Ryden's shorts down as the boy stood there sobbing, tore off his shirt and threw him forward towards the bed. Ryden landed on his stomach, the air rushing from his lungs in a hollow gasp, blond hair flopping down onto his brow. Williams was on top of him immediately, pinning Ryden down.

"No, wait, stop," Ryden begged, "Please, wait-"

"Shut up," Williams growled, undoing his trousers. His belt clinked.

"Wait-"

"You're a whore, act like one. Welcome to your new life."

"No, don't- Don't!"

Williams took the base of his cock in hand and shoved forward, once, twice, finding purchase on his second attempt. Ryden flailed more wildly, yelling in protest, but the head of Williams' cock pressed hard inside, followed by the length and girth of him. Ryden screamed. Williams held him still, fingers digging into Ryden's arms, jerking his hips forward to shove deeper.

"It hurts," Ryden protested, words muffled by the sheets, "It hurts!"

The man didn't even bother responding. He started to thrust immediately, still fully dressed, drunk on the power of trapping a helpless naked boy beneath him. He pushed Ryden's tail out of the way, to the side so that he could watch his dick plunge repeatedly into Ryden's hole.

"God, you feel amazing," Mr Williams chuckled, "What a lucky catch."

"Please take it out, please! Please!"

"Not a chance, slut."

Ryden tried to crawl away, but Williams held the boy still and fucked him harder.

"No, no, stop- stop! It hurts!"

His pleas went unanswered. He thought of the servants, walking through the hallways with their heads bowed and shame in their hearts. Could they hear him, wailing as he was fucked? It turned him on to imagine that they could. He loved being watched, loved being heard. Poor, lonely boy. Woe was he.

"Such a tight little cunt!"

"No, please, please...!"

Ryden, head lolling with the force of Mr Williams' thrusts, gazed into the distance. Far from the glassy-eyed helplessness of Williams' other victims, his gaze was fixed on the invisible presence that observed them. Z'uthralg felt hot and eager, turned on just as much as Ryden was.

 _Such a beautiful man,_ the creature hummed, _such a delicious killer._

Ryden spread his legs further, dug his knees into the mattress, curving the corner of his back and pressing against Williams' thrusts.

"Fuck yeah, see, you love it, you love it inside you," the man huffed gracelessly, rutting like a boar. Ryden gripped the sheets and pretended to bear it, when really, he was putting on a show for himself and his lover.

 _For his deeds, he will know death,_ Z'uthralg whispered, _and you will be its messenger._

Ryden groaned, aroused by the promise of violence, the energy at his fingertips.

"You dirty slut, you love it."

_He knows nothing. You are the most powerful victor._

"You fucking whore, dirty bitch, stupid slut, all you're good for, all you're good for,"

_A pathetic pervert such as him cannot comprehend you. You are magnificent._

"Yes," Ryden moaned, "Yes..."

"See, told you that you'd enjoy it," the man grunted, "You love my dick inside you, don't you? Yeah, yeah, fuck,"

_Are you eager to kill him?_

"Yes... Yes..."

"Knew it. You filthy wore. You disgusting bitch. Take my dick inside you! Take it all, fuck, fuck!"

***

The sex went on for a while. While frenzied, the businessman was deliberate and measured in his actions, drawing out the evening longer than Ryden had expected he would. It wasn't a problem, so much as it was a delight; far from being torture, he was enjoying the deceit and the suspense. He had been fucked harder and more furiously than Mr Williams fucked him, but the man didn't know that. Oh no, he thought he had captured a pretty little victim, a wide-eyed boy with a virgin's purity. He had no idea that the boy beneath him was actually a man; a man who regularly fucked an Eldritch monster, the nature of which Lovecraft couldn't have imagined.

The man kept his suit on as the fucking continued, dragging Ryden all around the room, intent on fucking him on every surface available. Presently, Ryden was kneeling on the floor, carpet thankfully soft against his knees, small hands clenched into fists. His throat clicked wetly as Williams fucked his face, two large hands gripping either side of his head, forcing the boy's head forward onto every thrust.

"Fuck yeah, fuck," the man groaned, "Open your mouth wider, yeah, yeah,"

Ryden choked, weakly pushing against the man's legs.

"Hands back in your lap, slut. Don't make me hit you again."

Trembling, Ryden did as he was told. Heat boiled inside him as he imagined the sight Z'uthralg was being treated to. The image of him, blond-haired and gorgeous, forced down onto his knees before a dressed man, tailored trousers unceremoniously unzipped to reveal a throbbing cock. Shoved between his pink lips, forced down his throat.

This continued on for a time, until Williams seized his hair and yanked him onto his feet. With a pitiful cry, Ryden staggered upward, and was thrown across the room. Stumbling forward, he slammed against a desk and sprawled across its surface, dazed and panting for air. The man was on him immediately, shoving his legs apart.

"No, please, no more," Ryden begged, voice hoarse from the abuse, "No, please,"

"Shh," the man told him, "Shut up."

He slid in easily, Ryden's hole wet and thoroughly open. He immediately began thrusting, every inward push marked by a loud squelch, their fluids mixing inside Ryden's body. The boy made quiet, helpless noises, a litany of "uh, uh, uh," that accompanied the man's cursing and grunts. He let himself go limp.

"Yeah, that's right, fucking submit," the man growled, "Submit, whore. Gonna put my seed inside you. You want that?"

Ryden lay there, body shoved brutally by the man's movements.

"Say you want it, bitch. Say you want it inside you. Say it."

In a flat, broken tone, as if he had lost all hope, Ryden whispered, "Put... Put your seed inside me..."

The man inhaled sharply and began pumping his hips harder. "Yeah, yeah. Say it again."

"Please... Come inside me..." Ryden whimpered the words, as if they weren't turning him on to an insane extent, his hole clenching around the man's wet cock, "Please, I want it, I..."

"Yeah. Yeah, fuck, say you're a dirty whore. Say it."

"I'm... I'm a dirty whore..."

"Beg for it. Beg." The man's thrusts were becoming more sloppy, his hips jerking uncontrollably as he neared his end. "Beg me for it."

Ryden sobbed loudly. "Stop-"

"Don't you fucking _dare_ refuse me, bitch. Beg for it!"

With a hitched breath, Ryden obeyed. "Please c- come inside me,"

"Yeah, that's right!"

"Please come-"

"You want it so bad, whore!"

"Please fill me up... Please put your seed inside me..."

"Fuck! Fuck!"

The man came with a yell, slamming inside Ryden one final time. Ryden held onto the table, wailing as if terrified by the loads of come that were spilling inside him, the hot bursts of white fluid overflowing from his small body. For a while, the man stayed inside him, then pulled out. A string of come trailed from Ryden's hole to the tip of his cock, before breaking and dripping down Ryden's skin.

Mr Williams stood back, as if to admire his work. The room was silent for a while, but for his heavy breathing. He tucked himself back into his pants.

"If you tell anyone about this," he said slowly, "I'll find you, and I'll kill you."

Ryden slowly pushed himself up off the table. His arms weren't trembling or shaking. He was steady and certain, abandoning the ruse of a poor, crying boy. He turned around to face Mr Williams. His ears straightened, perking up. His tail waved behind him, shifting as he thoughtfully regarded the other man. The air between them shifted, the mood changing. Mr Williams frowned when he realised his threat hadn't been met with the desired response.

"Did you hear me? I said I'll kill you if you tell anybody. You want me to hit you again, boy?"

Ryden smiled. He stepped forward, away from the table. Williams, without thinking, took a step back. There was something in the hybrid's eyes that frightened him. They were too steady. Too cold. Something had changed.

Faster than the businessman could process, Ryden moved, planting his fist between the man's eyes. Williams fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes, gracelessly and heavily. Ryden was on top of him immediately, both hands wrapped around his neck. Mr Williams choked at the pressure, grabbing the boy's wrists in an attempt to push him off. But Ryden wouldn't budge.

"Get- Get off- Hgnhh!"

Ryden squeezed his throat tightly. Mr Williams' eyes swum with sparks, and he flailed, trying to push the hybrid off him. The air seemed to swirl and coalesce around the blond-haired boy, writhing limbs framing him, fondly stroking the side of his pale face. Ryden was smiling; a broad, evil smile, sharp teeth exposed, his beautiful eyes alight with the pleasure of violence. Mr Williams had never been weak. He was scared.

 _Justice always prevails,_ whispered a disembodied voice.

"G- Get-"

"Does it feel good?" Ryden dipped his head down, leaning against him in a smooth bow, mouth against Williams' reddening cheek, "Being subjugated... Being hurt. Not nice, hmm?"

"Let m- me-"

"All those boys you've hurt," Ryden murmured, voice silky and deliciously entertained, "Do you think they liked it?"

The man didn't have an answer to that. Ryden dug his thumbs into the carotid arteries on either side of Mr Williams' neck, causing him to spasm and thrash, body begging for oxygen. He could no longer draw breath to speak, and he was starting to become aware how this night would end. With all his strength, he fought to live, but the hybrid easily held him down. Ryden was breathing hard now, just like the man had done, and it was obvious he took pleasure in this.

"For your crimes," Ryden moaned, "You die."

He moved his hips against the dying body beneath him, undulating in eagerness. It was only when the man's eyes became unfocussed and empty, the life draining from him, that Ryden shuddered himself into a silent, open-mouthed climax. Behind him, Z'uthralg cooed in delight.

_Beautiful._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To repeat the obvious: this story is not a realistic portrayal of sexual dynamics, and is also a fantasy. All characters involved are adult.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuhh, gore in this chapter. Also, shit is FUCKED right now, worldwide, so stay safe, and stay sane. Hope to update my other stuff soon. If you've left me a comment and I'm yet to reply, sorry 'bout that. Like I said, shit be fucked.

Ryden preferred to prey on humans, because the callousness of human sentience led to particularly heinous crimes, worsened by the full awareness of such a predator. He enjoyed murdering those who had words at their disposal, who could beg for mercy as he watched the life fade from their eyes. He was a sadist, he wouldn’t deny that. He was a bloodthirsty slut who used his eternally youthful body to trap the most awful of people. It was the _justice_ of it all which aroused him. He liked doing good. He liked knowing there were fewer victims in the world due to his actions. And if he got off while killing, so what? Humans were an awful species. The worst of them needed culling.

But occasionally, deliberate cruelty took a backseat to mindless brutality. Sometimes, humans weren’t the immediate concern.

The woods had been infested with monsters for quite some time and, far from the alleyways and clubs where Ryden usually prowled, lurked a truly frightening creature. It was a werewolf who had remained in its animal form, human intelligence dulled by the ferocity of a permanently-turned lycanthrope. Indiscriminate slaughter was one thing, but reports suggested the creature had a hunger for something far more libidinous. Victims had barely escaped with their lives, fleeing a roaring beast with a huge, erect cock. It wanted to procreate. And it was driven by a furious lust that knew no mercy.

Anyone in their right mind would be terrified of the violent creature. Thankfully for the general public, Ryden was not in his right mind. Or, his sense of danger had been wildly altered by years of sex, violence, power, and bestial sadomasochism.

This was a problem he was hungry to solve.

He got in his car, the engine starting up with a rusted growl, steering wheel solid and reassuring beneath his palms. He wore a thick flannel shirt, buttoned up above a white singlet, blue denim jeans cupping his frame comfortably, tail emerging from his waistband. He smoked, squinting past wisps of grey as he sped down a midnight road. His blond hair was cut short. He’d done it himself with a pair of scissors, and he liked the way it exposed his forehead and the sturdy lines of his face.

_You look very handsome tonight, my darling._

Ryden grinned as he drove, fragile paper crinkling against his lips. “You always know what to say,” he replied quietly, tendrils of affection stroking his soul, Z'uthralg’s very presence entwined with his own.

_You have been changing, lately._

Ryden hummed affirmatively, easing his foot down onto the accelerator. His superior senses allowed him to sense cars for miles, and they had an empty stretch of road all to themselves. He cracked his window a little, allowing cool air to burst against his face. Soft as the wind, he felt the gesture of a phantom finger, a sliding limb over his cheekbone. The touch continued upwards, tracking his temple, following the newly rigid line of his hair.

_I love seeing you change._

“Of course you do. You like everything about me.”

He didn’t so much hear Z'uthralg laugh, as he did _feel_ Z'uthralg laugh.

_Very true. But you’ve never quite been this way before. More masculine. Is there a reason for the change? Something I should know?_

Ryden lifted one hand off the steering wheel, took his cigarette between his fingers, exhaled a cloud of smoke. It was caught by the rushing air, whooshing out his window in puffs. He knew that Z'uthralg could probe his mind if they wanted, but that wasn’t how trust between the pair worked.

_I sense discomfort, my love._

“I’m alright, sweetheart. We don’t speak about my dysphoria much, but it’s… I love these games, I really do, I love seducing victims. But…” Ryden allowed the words to pour from him, not inclined whatsoever to hide the nuance of his experiences. “But as I grow older, I want to become a man. I feel I’ll always be seen as a boy, looking the way I do. It’s a hybrid curse. It turns me on, but it also frustrates the hell out of me. Sometimes I think I turned my youthful looks into a fetish… just as a way of coping.”

_Coping?_

“Coping with something I can’t change.”

Z'uthralg seemed to wrap themselves around Ryden’s seat, reaching around to hug him, invisible and imperceptible arms embracing him with all the earnestness a lover could ever desire.

_I see you as a man. I know you are a man. No matter what you look like._

It was a reassurance Ryden that had never directly sought before. Not like this. He continued to smoke, warmth blooming in his chest. They sat in silence for a long while, until Ryden turned a corner, wheels crunching against the rock-strewn road.

_We don’t have to do this tonight._

“I want to.”

_We could do it differently. Kill the beast outright. You needn’t seduce it, if your dysphoria prevents you from doing so._

“I appreciate that, Z'uthralg. Really, I do. But I want this. It still feels good, fucking the way that I do. The physicality of it. And it’s not like this creature gives a damn that I look youthful. It just wants a warm body to fuck.”

_You’re not wrong about that._

“It’ll come after me because I have limbs and a beating heart. Not because I look like a young human. So it’s… different. To our human prey. Do you understand?”

_I do._

“This thing isn’t going to look at me in the same way that the humans look at me. The humans who… who prey on boys. It’s just going to see a living creature and charge. That’s fine with me. The human monsters… we can handle them differently in the future. But the beasts, I enjoy.”

_I understand._

“Cool.” Ryden continued to drive, slowing down as they approached the edge of the woods. He felt more peaceful, now that he had made the distinction aloud. He didn’t know how long this renewed dysphoria would impact him, but it was a non-issue. Seduction or not, he could still assassinate human perverts. It would just be a more clinical job. And most monsters, driven by sheer madness and the urge to breed, were deliciously nonspecific when choosing targets. Whatever was within range was free reign. Fight, fuck, feast. That was a language Ryden could very easily speak.

He parked the car. Got out, closing the metal door behind him with a slam that echoed for miles. Z'uthralg’s presence hovered behind him. The night was brisk and black, a cloudless sky revealing a tapestry of stars and a brilliant, glowing moon. Buoyed by the warm excitement of sharing his feelings, and anticipating the night that awaited them, Ryden felt pulses of arousal beginning to hum through him. 

“Like a horror movie,” he noted quietly, tipping his chin upwards, gazing toward the looming celestial body, “and here comes the helpless little red riding hood.”

There, on the side of the road, he started to undress. He undid the buttons of his flannel, sliding the long-sleeved shirt off his shoulders, rolling it into a ball and handing it over to Z'uthralg. He repeated this process with every item of clothing, until he was standing by the roadside, naked, feet white and bare against dark dirt. Z'uthralg floated back to the car, their form flickering in and out of sight. The clothes seemed to materialise in the backseat, disappearing from the tentacled grip of Ryden’s magical lover. The feline boy watched this process, hands dangling by his sides. By the time Z'uthralg returned to him, he was starting to feel more eager, starting to anticipate the thrill of the chase. His eyes slid closed when Z'uthralg moved against him, limbs caressing his body.

_Would you like me to prepare you?_

"Yes," Ryden breathed, aroused by the request, "Yes."

A tentacle trailed up one of his thighs, tracing the skin between his knee and his hip. The touch then travelled sidewards and down, slithering between his legs. He exhaled heavily as he was penetrated, Z'uthralg's skin coated in a slickness which made the first inward thrust that much more bearable. Ryden's tail flicked behind him, body ticking into overdrive. He dug his toes into the dirt, licking at his lips, rocking in place as he was slowly fucked.

The base instincts of his species were to fuck and to kill. And he was feeling very primitive tonight.

_You are so beautiful. So savage._

Ryden groaned. He stood there and let himself be fondled, resolutely keeping his hands where they were. The wolf would more easily locate him if it could smell him. Taste him in the air. It would be driven mad by the desire to find him and claim him.

He felt safe in the knowledge that Z'uthralg saw him, knew him, loved him. Which gave him free reign to enjoy tonight.

 _This creature knows not how lucky it will be. To fuck you. To be inside you._ Z'uthralg seemed to move closer, the impression of a mouth pressing against Ryden's neck, as if a ghost were fondly kissing him. _Even in death it will know more beauty than most ever will. You will rend it, break its spine, dig your claws into its meat. And yet, it will still be thankful. As you milk its cock dry._

***

Hours later, the woods were quiet where Ryden's car sat, apparently abandoned. Darkness blanketed everything, the light of the moon cooling every surface. From the road, one would be forgiven for thinking that the maze of trees was silent and peaceful. But a sound could be heard, very faintly. It seemed to be an animal of some kind, or perhaps two animals. A discerning listener might associate the deep, rhythmic sounds with the grunting of a beast, but at this distance, it was hard to make anything out. The hush of wind, the rustling of leaves, and the chatter of small nocturnal creatures competed for dominance.

Several minutes' walk into the woods, winding around thick trunks and between fallen debris, the sound might become clearer. And further still, well into the belly of the dark landscape, any human with decent hearing would be able to identify the sounds for what they were. The deeper reverberations were indeed the vicious growls of a creature, but there were other noises too. Sporadic, choked whimpers, more high-pitched than the grunting, as if a weaker creature were being harmed.

The scene could be found in a clearing.

It was dark as far as the eye could see, but a hulking figure and a pale body interrupted the murky forest landscape. The wolf was huge, far too large to be a dog. Its rounded back was thick with muscle, blanketed by hair, back legs folded as it squatted above its victim. Its front legs were planted on the dirt, claws tearing the earth effortlessly. Its face was a horrific blend of human and canine, muzzle drawn back into a snarl, eyes catching the moonlight and glowing demonically.

A boy was trapped beneath the bulk of the creature.

Z'uthralg watched, treated to a truly primal display of copulation. They were aroused, their mass alive and tingling with enjoyment, twisting ropes of connection binding their thoughts directly with Ryden's. Which meant that, as Ryden was fucked, he could feel the eroticism of Z'uthralg's own perspective, watch himself being impaled on the ground. He was sprawled on his belly, legs parted wide, face turned as his cheek pressed against the dirt. Dark smudges marred his pale skin, and his tail had been pushed to the side, to allow the wolf access to his hole. His eyes seemed glazed, empty. Lips parted, senseless whimpers forced from him every time the creature thrust forward. The front of his belly bulged. The creature’s cock shouldn’t have fit inside him yet, somehow, it did. He was stretched so wide and so wet, and the beast slammed inside him like a creature possessed by the most violent spirit. The ground behind him was dented with claw marks and the impressions of a dragged body. The wolf was fucking him across the forest floor. The brutality of its senseless lust was forcing him to skid forward where he lay.

_Beg it to stop._

Ryden's lips parted, his expression delirious. "St- Stop..."

And still, Z'uthralg could sense Ryden's unparalleled arousal, the false words a delicious game. They were using the wolf for their own fantasy. For their own enjoyment.

The beast continued to fuck Ryden, huffing maniacally. The length of its cock, at least as thick as one of Ryden's calves, glistened wetly as it plunged in and out of him.

"F- Fuck, fuck, uh-"

_You are so beautiful._

"Yeah, yeah, shit-"

_Protest._

"Stop- stop, please take it out, please, pl- please,"

_Say that it's hurting you._

"It hurts, stop, st- hgh!"

Ryden's voice trailed off into a gurgle. The wolf had lifted one of its massive paws, placing the flat of its huge furred foot against Ryden's neck. The other paw slammed down onto Ryden's back, between the pale wings of his shoulder blades. Ryden was pinned in place, protests silenced. The slapping of skin, the wet sounds of violation, intensified. The wolf fucked its victim harder, growling. Ryden's cheeks grew pink with the flush of oxygen deprivation, pale lashes dipping low over unfocussed eyes. It was apparent he could twist free if he wanted too, but he was surrendering. At least for the moment.

Hybrids were capable of taking much harsher punishments than this, and the wolf's violence was not unwelcome. As Ryden lay there, helplessly fucked and rapidly slipping into unconsciousness, he climbed to a height of bliss previously unobtained. He orgasmed, twitching underneath the wolf, a warbling squeal squeezed from his throat, face reddened, lashes fluttering. Beneath the wolf's huge form, he seemed even smaller than usual, body lolling unresponsively as he was fucked.

_My love, shall I intervene?_

For a moment, their psychic link fell silent, Ryden's mind hovering on the edge of nothingness.

Then, faster than a human could ever move, he planted his hands beneath him, palm-down and certain. His arms straightened as he pushed himself up off the ground, shaking himself free of the wolf's grip as if the canine were nothing but a misbehaving pup. With arousal tingling through their semi-corporeal body, Z'uthralg watched, sensing the change in intent. Ryden had used the wolf for his own pleasure, and now, he wanted to move things along.

_Oh, yes, Ryden. My beautiful man._

The wolf lurched forward as its stance was shifted, huge paws shifted to the side as Ryden easily slipped from its grasp. It fell face-first onto the ground, and within an instant, Ryden was standing beside it.

_Yes, Ryden. Take what is yours. Finish it._

The feline hybrid, graceful as a cat and deadly as an arrow, climbed atop the wolf's back, fingers now sharp with claws that caught the moonlight. His face was wild, the cherubic prettiness of a boy combined with the aged sadism of a man, eyes glittering madly. His thighs sat heavy against the wolf's flank, feet dangling as he dug his fingers into the wolf's neck. Blood spurted from broken skin, dampening thick fur, and the wolf cried out in both shock and pain. It writhed, but razor sharp claws had pierced too deep, gashes slicing deep enough to reveal bone.

Within only moments, it was dead.

It lay still in the dirt, steam slowly rising from its twitching form, the frigid night air corroding a vitality which had been so forcefully on display. Ryden was panting, buried up to his forearms in meat, the moonlight turning buckets of gushing blood utterly black. He was drenched in it. Like a grotesquely over-indulgent painting.

 _You look wild,_ Z'uthralg whispered to him, moving closer _._

Ryden tipped his head back, eyes half-lidded, drunk on the thrill of murder. He licked at his lips, a fleck of blood smudged against the corner of his mouth.

"I love you," he said, the words slurred. Z'uthralg embraced him from behind, a reverence to their actions. As if they were being permitted to embrace a god.

_I love you, too._


	4. Chapter 4

Cole gestured flamboyantly as he spoke, leaned into the dramatic stereotype of his homosexuality, inhabiting a studio apartment in an upscale yuppie neighbourhood where coffee and theatre were popular topics of discussion. He wore tight shorts, transparent horn-rimmed glasses, and striped t-shirts. His belly and his thighs were decorated by a rug of soft, dark curls; he was a twink with the body of a bear, doe-eyed and bearded. Beyond his pastels and fashionable outfits, he loved leather and BDSM, loved the deep grunts of masculine partners as they buried their cocks inside him. He went to bars and clubs, knees aching as he kneeled to serve, head bobbing up and down, the tangy taste of skin and salt as delicious as cream and strawberries. He liked drugs, liked booze, liked the helplessness of intoxication, liked the comforting weight of a man's palm patting his head approvingly. Most of all, he liked _submission._ Every man dominated him differently, every partner took him to a new height of pain and pleasure. He was a self-described size queen and a total submissive.

In many ways, Ryden seemed an exception to Cole's preferences. But in truth, they were a perfect match.

By the time they met, Ryden looked different. His demeanour had hardened. He spoke in short, clipped sentences, rarely affording humans a glimpse of any vulnerability—whether real or pretend. He had grown into himself, and decided to embrace a new kind of manhood. The kind which had eluded him for so long, but which he had dreamed of one day embodying. He wore heavy denim and leather belts with solid buckles, flannel tucked into his waistband and buttoned up to the hollow of his throat. He wore white undershirts and drank beer, was rarely seen without his dark Stetson. He had grown his hair out once again, and now it hung by his shoulders in pale waves. With his hat on, his hair out, and his tail concealed down the leg of his jeans, he passed as a normal young man.

He worked as a labourer, bought himself a van and tools. There was nothing he couldn’t do, and he never turned down a job. Plumbing, construction, gardening, furniture delivery, postal work, paving, the occasional stint as a security guard; it was all on the table. He had a mattress and basic amenities in the back of his vehicle, which may have seemed insufficient from a human’s perspective, but he wasn’t human, though he pretended otherwise during the day. He was a hybrid. He didn’t even need a bed or a toilet, technically, but he had chosen not to live wild. Sleep was less of a regular necessity than it was an occasional indulgence. Most of his nights were spent at gay bars, flirting with humans, oiling up his fists and plunging them inside willing bodies. Life was simple. It was good. He had Z'uthralg and something to occupy him, other than murder.

Then, one night, he was sitting at the bar, and things changed.

***

The stool creaked beneath him when he shifted, leaning on his elbows and smoking, a heavy cloud of grey encircling his head. He kept his hat on, and thankfully this was a sex club, so nobody really questioned that. Behind him, men were moaning and whimpering, the whoosh and crack of whips accompanying the slapping of flesh and the hollering of delighted conversation. Energy pulsed through the air, vivid and enthusiastic. As far as the eye could see, it was all leather and sweaty skin, many men hiding their faces behind dog masks. Ryden had been intending to join the crowds after a few beers, arousal and anticipation building inside him. But he felt something that halted any such plans; a whisper of instinct, a sense that another creature moved through the throng of human men. He stiffened where he sat, lips pressing together hard as he inhaled through his nose. He could smell the heady musk of another supernatural being. The scent was similar to his, but heavier. More… _spicy._

He slowly turned his head, looking across the bar.

Several seats away sat another man. Cole. Tonight he wore an open leather vest that exposed his his furry chest, and a shiny peaked cap. Leather pants cupped the shape of his cock, where he sat with his knees spread. Their eyes met, Cole’s gaze locking with Ryden’s. They recognised each other to be kindred spirits.

Ryden’s gaze lingered for only a moment on Cole’s juicy package and sexy body hair, but then he noticed something else. On Cole’s neck was a tattoo. It was an old symbol, one which did not belong in a human bar, or on a human body. A witch had marked him with a spell, one of transformation and disguise. He had been allowed the ability to inhabit a human form.

Without speaking, Cole slowly slid off his stool. Not shifting his body an inch, Ryden remained looking at the stranger, eyes fixed on that symbol. His heart was sprinting, hammering furiously in his willowy chest. Z'uthralg, ever present in Ryden’s mind despite his absence from the bar, could sense his lover’s excitement and adrenaline.

_My dear, what’s going on?_

Ryden tapped his cigarette on the edge of an ashtray, licking his lips as he finally remembered where he had smelled this musky scent before. He knew now what this magnificent creature was, why submissiveness and praise would be so attractive to such a being.

Cole turned away from Ryden, exposing his back. With one last glance over his shoulder, he walked away, heading for the men’s toilets. Single stall. Good for a hot, heavy fuck. The cat hybrid watched Cole as he slipped through the crowds, shoulders bulkily brushing up against writhing bodies, and knew what awaited him if he chose to follow.

_Ryden, my darling. Do you need me?_

“No,” Ryden breathed, voice quiet enough that he knew nobody could hear him over the music and moaning, “I think I’ve just encountered another hybrid.”

_The odds of that are astronomical._

“I’m aware. But there’s one here.” Ryden sucked hard on his cigarette. “And he’s using a glamor.”

_What will you do?_

Ryden smirked, taking one last drag of his cigarette, sucking the soul out of it. His cheeks hollowed, and a nearby man glanced over at him with sultry intent. Ryden gave the man a wink, grinding his cigarette out in the ashtray before sliding off his stool, departing to meet Cole in the toilets.

***

The bathroom lights were stark and brilliant, casting dramatic shadows across everything. The walls were covered in graffiti, posters, leaflets about sexual safety, and glossy pages ripped from porno rags, displaying chiselled men with hard abdomens and tanned skin. The music was quieter in here, more muffled. The tile floor was dirty, despite being cleaned often by long-suffering employees, and a used condom had been discarded near an overflowing trash bin. Cole was waiting, leaning against the wall, hips cocked at an angle, the brim of his cap inclined low over his face. The overhead lights threw his face into darkness, so that only his smiling mouth appeared visible. His thick hands were resting on his belt.

Ryden walked slowly into the bathroom, hungry for it, itching to get this started. He closed the door behind him and locked it.

"Name's Ryden," he stated, striding forward slowly, footsteps heavy with purpose, the air between them electric, "How about you?"

"Cole."

"Cole," Ryden murmured, tasting the name, letting it roll around in his mouth, "Are you going to be a good boy, Cole?"

The man's eyes seemed to flutter, the words _good boy_ causing him to visibly quiver. He got down on his knees, every movement natural and expected, as though they moved like clockwork. He inclined his face upward, and Ryden's hand slid easily below his bearded chin, palm against the underside of his jaw, fingers scratching the stubble of his neck. Cole hummed, erection pressing hard against the underside of his leather pants.

"I can see why pup play would be so appealing," Ryden mused, "This certainly is the community for you."

Cole ducked his face down, rubbing his cheek against Ryden's palm. Ryden undid his belt with his spare hand, the sound of clinking metal simultaneously filthy and intimate, especially when flavoured by thumping music. Public sex never got any less fun. Cole helped pull his waistband down and, with an eagerness Ryden appreciated, dove forward to suck at tender skin. If he was surprised by Ryden's anatomy, he didn't show it. In fact, he seemed to relish what he found, lips closing around what had once just been a small bud of flesh, but was now larger, thicker. Ryden exhaled hard and sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, curling the fingers of one hand behind Cole's ear, rubbing gently at the skin there. 

"Fuck," Ryden groaned, "Who says cats and dogs don't get along, huh?"

Cole chuckled, face pressed against Ryden's groin, nose tickled by the pale, curly hairs which led in a trail up to Ryden's belly button. He reached forward to grab Ryden's ass as he sucked and licked, enthusiastically leaning his whole body forward. He serviced Ryden like he was a starving man eating a meal, like he just couldn't get enough. Dominance flowed through Ryden's veins, an instinctual recognition of their dynamic, of what this creature needed. He shifted his foot, pressing the toe of his boot against the front of Cole's pants, putting pressure on his trapped cock. Leather on leather. The man whimpered, pained approval muffled by Ryden's junk. He gripped the backs of Ryden's thighs tighter, head bobbing, mouth opening wide, the flat of his tongue sparking waves of arousal.

"Good bitch," Ryden breathed, "Good boy."

Glad for the locked door, Ryden allowed his tail to wave freely, his jeans shoved down enough to allow for that freedom. He could feel Z'uthralg watching, and was spellbound by the scent and submissiveness of this new hybrid. Bliss filled him as he imagined all the days they would have together, the nights and the weeks they would surely spend fucking, more honest with each other than either of them could ever be with human men. Cole's lashes fluttered, eyes inclined briefly upward, Ryden's gaze meeting his. In that moment, something profound passed between them.

Ryden knew that life would not be the same.


End file.
